


Shyan Oneshots (Buzzfeed Unsolved)

by ghostwheeze



Category: Buzzfeed Unsolved (Web Series)
Genre: M/M, TAKE ME TO CHURCH, but if I work up the nerve to do some nsfw then I'll warn y'all at the start of the chapter, generally sfw, my collection of prompt fills from tumblr, so lots of AUs
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-08-17
Updated: 2017-09-07
Packaged: 2018-12-16 14:58:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 8,058
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11831130
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ghostwheeze/pseuds/ghostwheeze
Summary: A place for me to post all my oneshots/various prompt fills from tumblr!





	1. Grim Grinning Ghosts

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt: There's a buzzfeed video where Shane learns to belly dance, another where he does a Barre fitness class, and there is a BTS scene of Ryan claiming Shane knows how to waltz. So, conclusion: Shane knows how to dance. Prompt: Shane does some sort of dance (maybe hip hop or belly dancing?) and Ryan has a small (*coughBigcough*) gay crisis while watching him.

"It's the Haunted Mansion. We're fucking investigating the Haunted Mansion. Ryan, you brought me to Disneyland."

Ryan bursts into laughter, the sound forced from his lungs in a wheeze. "This is nothing like the Haunted Mansion!"

Shane cuts him off with a dramatic wave of his flashlight. "Alright, Mr. Everything-is-a-conspiracy-and-everything-is-connected--"

"Fuck you."

"You can't tell me that this old hotel with a bunch creepy paintings, a random crystal ball, and a ballroom full of cobwebs is nothing like that ride--"

"Fuck you."

"There's even a cemetery out back!"

"Shane--"

"There's 999 souls here, Ryan--"

"Shut--"

"But there's room for a thousand!"

"Up."

They're both giggling by now, though, despite the spookiness of the ballroom around them.

"Shit-- Shane, we're supposed to be doing a serious investigation! People died here," he wheezes, wiping his eyes.

"Oh, they can't hear us," Shane insists, swinging his flashlight around again to study the Victorian architecture around them. "This place is pretty cool, though. I wonder why the hotel was abandoned? It's beautiful. A spiffy place."

Ryan snorts, but nods in agreement. "I mean, maybe it had to do with the sacrificial murders committed here by cult members a few decades ago. But that's just my theory," he mutters sarcastically.

"Just a theory," Shane agrees with a grin. "Seems more likely it was a few bad Yelp reviews."

They attempt to do a few EVP sessions seated in the center of the ballroom, but the hotel is eerily silent. Ryan argues that it's too quiet, and Shane rolls his eyes.

"When there's noises, you get scared, and when it's quiet, you get scared. You gotta pick one, Bergara."

"Shut up, Shane."

"Oh, so now you do want it to be quiet?"

"You're so full of shit, oh my god."

Shane laughs and gets to his feet, brushing the dust off his jeans. "Anyway, it's kind of boring in here. Where are the waltzing ghosts?"

Ryan stares around the room thoughtfully for a few moments, and Shane smiles a little as he sees an idea starting to form, clear as day on his friend's face. God, he was so expressive, it was kind of--

"You're going to hate me for this, but I have an idea," he says as he stands as well, cutting off Shane's train of thought.

"Pretty sure I could never hate you," he interjects, and Ryan gives him a dazzling, but shy, grin. 

"Remember in Salem when we put on the costumes to try and get the ghosts to think we were one of them?"

"How could I forget? It sparked a kink in me I never knew I had."

"Shut the fuck up. Anyway, maybe we could do something similar. We don't have any costumes, but maybe we could... I don't know, build up some of that residual energy? By dancing? I bet loads of people danced here back in the day."

Shane blinks at him, and then his face breaks out into a grin. "Hey, that's not such a bad idea," he says quietly as he lays down his camera and flashlight, waiting for Ryan to do the same.

"What kind of dance should we do?" Ryan asks, a smile stretching across his face, and Shane looks at him thoughtfully for a moment.

"Well, it has to be one the 'ghosts'"-- he lifts his fingers to do air quotes -- "will recognise. So no breaking it down like Jay-Z."

Ryan snickers and and shakes his head. "Maybe the Charleston?" He begins to awkwardly shuffle and kick his feet back and forth, and Shane howls with laughter.

"You're a terrible dancer!"

"Wow, that's so kind of you, really sweet," Ryan laughs, stilling. "Whatever, your turn then. We already know you're better than I am."

"Wow, you were right about something for once, that's incredible." Shane gives him a shit-eating grin, then hesitates. Ah, fuck it. With a burst of courage, he reaches out and grabs Ryan's arm, tugging him closer until their chests are nearly brushing. The shorter man's eyes are wide as saucers and Shane chuckles.

"Relax, I'm not going to sacrificially murder you." With a smile, Shane links one of their hands, the other settling on Ryan's ribs while he nudges the other man's hand up to his shoulder.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa. You do not get to lead," Ryan protests. "That's so not fair."

"Yes it is, because I know what I'm doing and I'm taller." Shane grins down at him, and earns himself a sigh from his friend. 

"Whatever."

"That's the spirit!" 

With only a few fumbles at the start, Shane eventually gets a rhythm going between the two of them. They start slow, stepping in small squares around the mahogany flooring, until Ryan's confidence builds enough that they can start to sweep gracefully around the room.

Holy shit, they were waltzing. Really, properly waltzing. In a ballroom. Most likely a haunted one. There were still bloodstains in the wood floor and cobwebs hanging from the chandeliers and it was nearly pitch black but all Ryan could focus on was the points of contact between him and Shane; their clasped, slightly sweaty hands, the steady, long fingers holding his waist, and the way their torsos grazed each other each time they stepped forward. God, Ryan really hoped the darkness hid the warm blush staining his cheeks.

It takes a few minutes but eventually he works up the courage to lift his head from staring at their feet and gaze at Shane instead. He can hardly see, but a small amount of light from their flashlights and cameras reflects in Shane's eyes, creating shadows around his jawline, and Ryan aches to touch, to lean just that little bit closer and--

"Well, that didn't work," Shane suddenly declares, dropping his hands and stepping away. 

Ryan stares, slack-jawed, his own hands hanging there for a moment before he slowly lowers them to his sides. "Yeah. Oh well," he murmurs, voice rough, and he quickly clears his throat.

Shane rubs the back of his head awkwardly while they steal furtive glances at each other for a few seconds, each wondering if maybe, just maybe...

The moment is shattered by a resounding thump coming from the corner of the room and Ryan jumps a foot in the air, letting loose a string of curses as Shane scrambles for his flashlight to illuminate the area. Alarmingly, the room is empty, and as his heart pounds in his chest Ryan glances to the side to share a wide-eyed look with Shane.

After a beat, the taller man grins and bounds across the room. "Grim grinning ghosts, come out to socialise!'' he sings, as Ryan reluctantly trails behind him with a fond grin.


	2. Singing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: If you're still accepting requests, I've got a prompt for you. Ryan overhears Shane singing in the shower one time and ever since bugs Shane to sing for him nonstop. It isn't till sometime later when they're dancing together does Shane decide to sing for him in that moment. And it's a really intimate scene because Ryan knows just how much Shane hates singing.

It's 3:30 in the morning, and all Ryan wants to do is sleep.

He and Shane had spent the evening investigating the Northern State Asylum in Washington, a mental hospital residing on beautiful farmlands that had been in operation for most of the 20th century. The buildings were decrepit and crumbling, and due to the asbestos in the air, they hadn't been given permission to spend the night. So, after an evening of scares (or amusements in Shane's case), they had retired to their hotel.

They were both covered in dust and grime from the abandoned buildings and as soon as they had arrived, Shane claimed the shower, leaving Ryan to curl up on the bed and flick on the television while he scrolled through his phone. A few moments later and his ears picked up the sound of a soft, melodic voice floating around him. Great, and they had noisy neighbours. Or it was a ghost.

He snorted to himself and shook his head, and it wasn't until a few moments later that he realised the voice was inside their room. Actually, it sounded like it was coming from their bathroom.

"Shane...?" Curious, Ryan slid from the bed and slowly crept toward the bathroom, grinning to himself. Shane was singing. Singing! He didn't know Shane could sing. He didn't know he liked to sing. But the low, rich timber drifting from behind the closed bathroom door was... Well, beautiful.

Too soon, the shower shut off and Shane stopped singing. A moment later the door opened with a billow of steam that revealed Shane, bewildered and clutching a towel around his waist. "Ryan?"

The shorter man dragged his eyes away from the water droplets clinging to Shane's torso with tremendous effort. "You were singing."

Shane blinked at him, then scoffed and gently pushed past to get to his bag. "No I wasn't."

"Wh-What?! Yes you were!"

"Nah, wasn't me. Probably a ghost."

"That was not a ghost!"

Shane straightened, clutching his pyjamas in one hand and smirking down at Ryan. "I like this role reversal we've got going on. Ever consider roleplay?" His lips twitched, trying to retain his laughter.

"No. I'm kinkshaming you."

"Aw, c'mon, Ryan," he cackled, sidling closer.

"Wha- No! You're trying to distract me," insisted Ryan, holding his hands up as a blockade. "You were singing. I heard it."

"Ryan, I don't even know how to sing," Shane sighed, dropping his towel, probably to get dressed, possibly to distract Ryan more. And it worked. With a warm blush and a lick of his lips, all thoughts of singing went out the window for Ryan as he tackled Shane to the bed.

The rest of their filming went much the same. Ryan pleaded with Shane to admit he could sing. And when Shane finally acknowledged that yes, perhaps he maybe sometimes liked to say words to a certain tune, Ryan then proceeded to beg for another sample. But Shane refused him every time.

That is, until their last destination at a cemetery in Nevada.

The cemetery, supposedly one of the most haunted in America, rested on top of a hill in the middle of a desert. In all directions, as far as the eye could see, was dirt. So whenever they heard voices whispering on the wind and shuffling like footsteps, Ryan promptly freaked the fuck out. ("What else could it be, Shane?!") And Shane promptly tried to rationalise it. ("The wind? A bird? A snake? Literally anything else, Ryan.")

About the dozenth time this happened though, Shane finally had enough. The sky had begun to lighten with the coming morning, and they'd done enough investigating.

"Ryan," the taller man murmured, unusually soft, and Ryan quieted his current rant about how something definitely touched his ankle just then Shane!

"What?"

Without a word, Shane reached out and pulled his boyfriend toward him. "Remember that time we waltzed at the Haunted Mansion?"

Ryan's brow drew together in a confused frown. "What- Oh. Hah, yeah," he murmured, but he still looked perplexed.

Shane just hummed, slipping his arms around Ryan's waist and drawing him closer. Ryan's own arms instinctively wrapped around the other's neck, and smiled as their chests pressed together, Shane's lips brushing against his temple. "Good thing you've gotten better at dancing since then," Shane murmured with a smile, and Ryan laughed, the sound vibrating through both of their torsos.

Slowly, the pair began to sway to their own rhythm, and behind them the sky bled from blue to purple to pink. "I wish we had music," Ryan mumbled into Shane's shoulder.

His hair ruffled with the resigned sigh his boyfriend blew out. "I could–" he started, but was interrupted by a soft, low melody. Without meaning to, Ryan's face broke into a bright, wide grin, and it took all he had not to jump up and down in excitement. Shane was singing!

The soft, lulling notes blanketed him in a fond warmth, and as fucking cheesy as it sounded, he felt their hearts thrumming to the same beat.

As Shane's voice petered out, Ryan smiled warmly and hugged him tighter.

"Well, there you go. That's the most romantic crap I've ever done. Don't say I never did anything for you," Shane eventually huffed, but he kissed the crown of Ryan's head anyway.

"Aw, you let down that tough guy exterior for me," Ryan laughed.

"Shut up."

"Shane Madej, actual cinnamon roll."

"You suck."

"A gentle giant!"

With a huff Shane withdrew, only to swoop down and hook their mouths together in a final effort to quiet the shorten man. Behind them, the sun peeked over the horizon, bathing them in a golden glow.


	3. Jacket Sharing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Here's a prompt: The boys are exploring a spooky area that's outdoors, but don't take the weather into consideration. So when they get there it turns out it's freezing, and Ryan didn't bring a jacket. While they're exploring Shane keeps trying to convince Ryan to go back and get a jacket since he's obviously cold, but Ryan keeps saying he's fine. So Shane just ends up draping his jacket over Ryan's shoulders during the middle of the episode, insisting he'll get a cold.

"It's ghosts."

"It's not ghosts."

"Shane, we're in central California, in June, and it's fucking freezing. It's ghosts."

"It's windy."

"Shane—" Ryan glared, seeming too furious to even talk anymore. Or maybe that was because his teeth were chattering violently. Oops.

Shane's laughter died down. "Hey, don't you have a jacket?"

"It's back at the hotel," Ryan sighed, huffing and rubbing his biceps through his thin sweater. "I didn't think I'd need it because it's  _June in California_."

"You're a bit of a dummy," Shane chuckled, shaking his head and continuing on through the abandoned manor. It was practically dissolving at this point, and every gust of wind through the gaping holes in the ceiling threatened to send more rotten wood tumbling around them.

"Yeah, well, you're a bit of an asshole," he shot back, but he was smiling, trailing behind Shane and jumping at every little noise the house made.

Only a few minutes later, Shane spoke up again. "You're going to get sick," he mumbled quietly. He swept his flashlight around one of the side rooms, trying to appear nonchalant.

"It's not th-that cold." Ryan rolled his eyes at himself as his teeth chattered damningly.

Shane rolled his eyes again, but for once he didn't have a smart comeback, too worried for the state of his friend as they trudged through the chilling rooms. At least he was entirely certain it was wind and not spirits like Ryan kept insisting.

Not long later, the two boys found themselves in a dusty, abandoned room. The walls seemed relatively intact and there were two disintegrating wicker chairs lined up perfectly next to one another, despite the haphazard state of the rest of the room.

Ryan hesitated. "That's a bit—"

"Perfect!" Shane chuckled and strode to the chairs, testing one carefully before settling down. "This'll work for the case-reading."

"I don't—Yeah okay whatever," sighed Ryan, slowly sinking down on the other chair while their cameraman hooked up a camera on a tripod for them.

"This week on B-Buzzfeed Unsolved..." A shiver wracked Ryan's body and Shane did his best to ignore it. Both of them were stubborn (obviously), but he couldn't help but think this was a stupid thing to be stubborn about. He fidgeted nervously, sending Ryan worried glances. Okay, so maybe he wasn't doing a great job of ignoring it.

"Th-They say th-that the n-nurse—D-D-Damnit!" A full-bodied shiver raced through Ryan and he took a moment to set his phone down and rub at his arms to try to warm up a little.

"Oh for the love of—" Shane shook his head and stood, in full view of the camera, slinging off his trusty denim jacket and sliding it over Ryan's shoulders. "I can't have you dying from something as stupid as a cold, then coming back to haunt me just to prove that ghosts are real," he murmured with a smile as he smoothed his large hands over Ryan's biceps. Their eyes met and Shane slid back a step, drawing his hands toward himself. He felt decidedly awkward, but Ryan was no longer shuddering with every breeze, so he counted this as a win.

"Uh, thanks," Ryan spoke up, finally snapped out of whatever daze Shane's jacket had cast over him.

"Any... time..." He hesitated, shuffling back and forth on his feet, then hurriedly sat back down again. His own button-up did nothing to protect him from the chill, but Ryan's flushed cheeks and chipper attitude did more than enough to warm him from the inside out. 


	4. Mausoleum

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> How about.... Ryan and Shane are stuck in a room for some reason (Maybe the doorknob broke off...?) And Ryan is absolutely terrified. The sexual tension has been high between the two for a while and so Shane decides... fuck it, and does something to distract Ryan ;)

"Fuck this shit, I'm out!" Ryan sped toward the door of the mausoleum and gripped the door handle, giving a frantic tug. The force snapped the rusted bolts right in half and he went tumbling backwards, right into Shane, clutching the tarnished handle with white knuckles.

"Whoa there," Shane laughed, wrapping an arm around Ryan to steady him. He swallowed thickly as he got a whiff of his shampoo. "What, you decided you actually want to stick this one out?"

"No! The fucking door just broke!" He straightened and waved the handle in Shane's face, eyes wide. Endearingly so, Shane might add.

"Oh. That's not good."

"No, you fucker, it's not! We're stuck! There's probably a ghost and most definitely a dead body, and we're fucking stuck in here with them." He hurried to the door, desperately trying to get a grip on where the handle once was.

"Woops. I guess you'll have to stick around and actually complete an investigation," he deadpanned. Shane swung his flashlight around, studying the stone walls of the mausoleum. They had to be at least a few feet thick– there was no way the rest of the team could hear them shout for help. Okay, maybe Ryan was right to freak out.

"You're an asshole," the shorter man spat as he gave up on reattaching the door handle. It clattered to the ground. "We're gonna die in here."

"I'm sure someone will eventually realize that something went wrong and they'll come find us." Shane wandered over to the giant stone coffin in the center of the room and casually leaned against it, smiling in amusement as Ryan's eyes bugged out of his head.

"Dude—No. You know what? I won't even bother," Ryan sighed. He laid his camera on the ground, then straightened. "We are literally stuck in a mausoleum. How are you not more scared?"

Shane shrugged. "I dunno. There's nothing to be scared of. We'll get out of here eventually, and ol' Dusty Bones here is too busy being dead to do anything to us." He smiled and patted the top of the marble casket.

"Shane—Oh my god—" Ryan wanted to face-palm.

"And his ghostie is too scared to even show himself," he continued, then raised his voice. "Isn't that right? You're too much of a coward to even do something as little as knock on a wall or whisper in our ear—"

"Shane, don't—"

"C'mon, show us we have something to be scared of!"

"Dude, you seriously have a death wish."

"Rip my throat out if you want!"

"Shane!"

The taller man glanced down when he felt a finger jab his chest, and grinned when he was met with Ryan's blazing eyes, their breath mingling between them.

"You're a fucking idiot," Ryan huffed, slapping Shane's chest again for good measure.

Warmth unfurled in Shane's gut. He made to back up a step, but the cool stone of the casket was already digging into his lower back, and Shane felt a very different sort of panic close around his throat. God, if Ryan moved even an inch closer, he was going to immediately know how much his heart was racing. Shit.

A bang echoed throughout the small chamber. Ryan jumped, whirling to swing his flashlight around. "No, no, no—"

Shane glanced down between them, at the mere sliver of air separating their bodies. Ryan was quaking, and all Shane could focus on was the way it made them just barely brush together, right where Shane's hips were lined up with—

"It was probably just a tree branch falling on the roof," he offered quickly, hoping that Ryan took the strain in his voice for fear instead of anything else. Carefully, he gripped Ryan's shoulders and held him steady as he slowly slid out from behind him. Shit. He was half-hard. Thankful for the darkness, Shane closed his eyes for a moment and cast his thoughts to the decaying skeleton that was inches from his fingertips inside the tomb, using images of maggots and decomposing eyeballs to get himself under control.

"That was not a fucking tree branch!" screeched Ryan, completely unaware of Shane's inner turmoil.

"It was definitely a tree branch," he insisted with a forced laugh, mentally urging his overly warm skin to cool.

"Sometimes you're really fucking douchey, you know that?"

"Yes."

A breeze wafted through the air and Ryan's eyes bugged out of his head. "What the fuck. What the fuck? How can there be wind? There's no windows and the door is shut!"

Shane parted his lips to offer an explanation, but his stomach dropped when an unmistakable whisper reached his ears. As Ryan screamed, Shane whirled around and shone his flashlight across the room.

"What the fuck was that?! There's no one there!" Ryan shrieked.

Shane shushed him, stepping in front of the shorter man protectively and reaching back to rest a hand on his chest in an effort to calm him. The hairs on the back of his neck lifted as he shivered against his will. "Again, there's probably a hole somewhere and it's just the wind getting in."

"You're so full of shit, Shane."

The taller man sighed and dropped his hand, pivoting to face him again. "It's a very saint-like mausoleum, Ryan, you know that right?"

Ryan frowned, brows furrowed in confusion. "What?"

"Y'know, saint-like. Holy." He lifted his hand, fingers curled to form an O shape. "Hole-y."

"I can't fucking believe you. Can't you take this seriously? Just for once?"

Shane's face crumpled. "What? I was just joking, Ry."

"Yeah, well, this means a lot to me so I'd appreciate if you didn't."

"I was trying to make you laugh!"

"Why?"

"Because I don't want you to be scared!"

They stared at one another, chests heaving. Shane edged closer, until Ryan was the one pressed against the casket, and haltingly placed his hands on the stone on either side of his hips.

"I just don't want you to be scared," he mumbled, leaning close. He froze there, counting Ryan's eyelashes, the shape of his lips, waiting for his friend to shove him away. But when no such rejection came, he steeled himself and pressed forward.

Shane jolted at the first brush of their lips, but other than that he held himself still, fingertips curling against the stonework.

After what felt like an eternity, Ryan finally, finally, moved forward slightly, hooking their lips more firmly together. Shane couldn't help but smile a little, leaning into him to deepen the kiss as his hands lifted to curl around Ryan's waist. Fucking finally.

He felt Ryan's breath shudder past his lips and Shane snatched up the opportunity to lick into his mouth. Soon, the silence of the mausoleum was cut through with their gasps and heavy breathing, and when Ryan let slip a small groan, Shane lost himself.

Without even thinking, he hitched his hands under Ryan's thighs and lifted him onto the edge of the casket.

"Christ, Shane," Ryan chuckled breathlessly spreading his knees for Shane to stand between them. He used his grip to bring their hips flush together and they released equally loud moans. "Th-This is so wrong," he continued, giggling. "We are so going to hell for making out on top of some guy's grave."

"We can carpool," Shane murmured, more concerned with latching his lips onto Ryan's throat in an effort to make him moan again.

He was easily rewarded and he smirked, sucking hard on the tan skin as his fingers once again squeezed tight enough to bruise around Ryan's hips. He felt the other man's hands roaming his back before finally settling against his scalp and giving his hair a soft tug.

"God—" Shane raised his head and kissed him again, hard. Just as he was planning to run his tongue along Ryan's lips, an enormous bang reverberated throughout the building and he winced as a sharp pain bloomed along his lower lip.

"Oh, shit! Sorry, I'm sorry!" Chilled hands cupped his face and suddenly he was meeting Ryan's worried gaze. "I totally just bit your lip, shit you're bleeding, I'm sorry—"

"It's fine, it's fine," Shane laughed, licking his own lips and tasting copper. Ryan slowly dragged his thumb along his mouth, wiping away the rest of the blood, and Shane nearly leaned in to kiss him again, lip injuries be damned. But then there was another boom and they leaped apart as the door crashed to the marble flooring, sending up a plume of dust and dirt.

"Whoa—Shit—You guys okay?" Their cameraman and one of the producers stepped through the cloud, peering into the darkness, and Shane grinned.

"See Ryan? I told you it wasn't a ghost. It was just our heroes, saving us from an eternity of damnation in this hellhole." He swung his arm around the shorter man, trying not to look too closely at his swollen lips and ruddy cheeks.

Ryan shook himself out of his flustered state quickly enough, retorting, "Okay, but that totally doesn't explain the footsteps—"

"Yes it does."

"Wait, what did you guys hear?"

"No it doesn't! There was something in here with us, I swear—"

"Yeah, a mouse."

"Fuck you, Shane."


	5. Shane Gets Spooked

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> shyan prompt: shane is the one who panics at a location and ryan comforts him [k]

"Holy shit, that flashlight just turned on."

Ryan stared the light sitting on the floor out of reach with wide eyes, frozen, not tearing his gaze away as Shane turned to see what all the fuss was about.

"So? We debunked that, remember? I don't really take that as conclusive evidence anymore."

Ryan huffed and shot him a glare. "Yeah, we debunked it if the flashlight was mostly unscrewed. But I didn't do anything to that one!"

"Oh—Pft..." Shane chuckled and shook his head, climbing out of his sleeping bag to cross the living room and snatch up the flashlight. He shook it in his hands for a moment, then shrugged and slid the batteries out, once again sending the room into darkness. "There. Can I sleep now? Or are you going to keep using dysfunctional technology as an excuse to keep me awake?"

"You're such an asshole."

"Don't I know it," Shane deadpanned, sliding once again into his sleeping bag next to his friend. "Goodnight, Ryan," he said in a sing-song voice.

"Yeah, whatever, goodnight," he mumbled.

After a few heartbeats, a bang echoed from the wall across from them and Ryan leapt a foot in the air, his frightened swearing drowned out by Shane's laugh. "It was just the house settling," he insisted.

"Wha—No! No way was that  _just the house settling_ ," he said in a terrible impression of Shane's voice.

"If you want to be so sure, just ask who's there."

"Um, I think I'd rather drill my own teeth."

"Aw, don't be rude! They just wanna crack open a cold one with us."

"A—" Ryan couldn't help but let out a wheezing laugh. "A cold what?"

"I dunno. A cold... soul. They wanna crack open a cold soul with the boys."

"That's fucked up."

"Don'tcha, demons? You wanna eat my soul?"

"Shane, dude—" Ryan yelped as the flashlight once again switched itself on. "Holy fuck! No! No, okay, you took the batteries out of that one! How is that possible?!"

Shane felt his grin slip from his face. "Uh... That must be a different flashlight," he mumbled, sitting up.

"No! That's the same one!" Ryan screeched, white knuckles curled around the edge of his sleeping bag. "I think we should go."

"No, wait, hang on..." Shane slowly stood once again and went to carefully lift the flashlight, the light flickering for a moment before shutting off. His fingers definitely did not shake as he unscrewed the back, and his stomach did not plummet when he saw that was, in fact, devoid of batteries. "It's gotta be faulty wiring," he murmured.

"Shane? I-I think we should go," Ryan whimpered, sitting up and staring at him fearfully.

"Ry, there's nothing to be scared of. There's always a logical explanation before ghosts. Always," he argued, but he was mostly trying to reassure himself. Heart pounding, Shane deftly began to dismantle the flash light. He removed the main casing, a few of the wires, and even the lightbulb, then laid everything down on the ground and backed up to sit himself next to Ryan. And if he purposefully settled so that their shoulders were brushing, well, that was just for him to know.

"Is anyone there? Mind making that light up again for us?" he asked, feeling a bit ridiculous. He'd calmed slightly, though, because there was no way it could possibly light up now.

And of course, it stayed dark.

"Do you want to hurt us?" he spoke up again.

Ryan jolted next to him. "Dude, don't ask that! I've got a really bad feeling about this."

"But look, it's not turning on anymore. I told you it was just a problem with the flashlight."

"It's not turning on because I bet it doesn't want to just hurt us—It wants to kill us!"

Shane's ears barely registered Ryan's scream over the sound of his own pounding heart when the light flickered, then glowed steadily.

"What—"

"Holy shit, holy shit, Shane! I told you it was ghosts! And it just said it wants to—"

"Kill us."

"We gotta get out of here!" Ryan scrambled to his feet, tugging Shane up after him when all the taller man could do was stare at the illuminated bulb.

"That's not possible—Ryan, it doesn't make sense."

"It's ghosts, dude, I told you! What if it's the demon? What if— _Ah!_ "

Shane finally tore his eyes away from the light as he bumped straight into Ryan's back. A shiver raced down his spine at the sudden cold and he shut his eyes.  _It's just the wind, it's just the wind, it's just—_

"Did you see that?!" Ryan screeched, backpedaling to try and drag Shane out the other doorway instead. "I swear I saw somebody standing at the top of the stairs!"

_But... But it was the middle of the night, the rest of the team had gone home, it was just him and Ryan, there wasn't anyone else here..._

"Shane? Shane!"

The taller man's eyes snapped open, and all of a sudden his senses came rushing back. He was trembling, fighting off shivers as the temperature plummeted around them; each breath rasped his throat with every heave of his chest and the only point of warmth was Ryan's hand grasping his. He kept shaking his head back and forth. It wasn't possible, none of this could be happening.

The light flickered off again, plunging them into darkness, and he heard Ryan curse as he fumbled around for one of the other flashlights. "Shit, shit, shit—"

Despite every primal instinct screaming at him, Shane finally tore his eyes away from the shorter man to look past him, into the hallway, just in time to see a shadow materialize at the bottom of the staircase this time.

_It was just his eyes playing tricks..._

"Ry-Ryan," he wheezed, swallowing a few times to get his throat working.

_If you look at your face in a mirror long enough in low light you start to see things..._

"Ryan," he tried again, as the shadow slithered closer. Oh god, he couldn't breathe...

"Ryan!"

"What?! Oh, shit—" He released Shane's hand for just a moment and frantically fumbled with his pocket, while Shane remained rooted to the spot. Every cell in his body was screaming at him to run, to get far away from whatever he was seeing.

"Fuck off!" Ryan suddenly shouted, and then a glittering arc burst in front of them and the figure stretched and twisted before vanishing altogether.

Shane trembled and sank to the floor as the light flicked off, only to be replaced with the glaring ceiling light overhead as Ryan hurried to flip the switch.

"I-I can't believe—Did you see that? It—I didn't really think that would work, oh my god... Shane?" Ryan dropped to his knees in front of the sandy-haired man. "Shit, dude, are you okay?"

Shane still couldn't get his throat working very well so he just nodded, curling his quivering hands into his lap and futilely attempting to lessen his frantic breaths.

"You're a lying liar who lies, you know that?" Ryan sighed and lifted a blanket to settle over Shane's shoulders. "It's gone now, I promise," he murmured, scooting close to rub his back with one hand. After a minute, he reached up and gently maneuvered Shane's head onto his shoulder. "Just breathe with me, man..."

Letting his eyes slip shut, Shane pressed his face into Ryan's neck, shuddering with every breathe he forced through his lips. He curled his fingers loosely into Ryan's shirt, his other hand gripping the blanket, trying to ground himself once again. He tried not to think about how every ounce of logic he used on these investigations had just flown out the window.

"H-How did you do that?" he eventually managed, his lips brushing Ryan's collarbone.

His friend let out a strained laugh. "Holy water. Told you it works," he sighed, moving to wrap both arms around Shane.

A beat. "That's fucking genius," Shane said with a weak laugh.

Ryan smiled and carefully shifted to lean back against the wall, and Shane stretched the blanket to curl around the both of them as he settled against his chest.

"This is probably a bad time to say 'I told you so'," Ryan murmured against his scalp after a few minutes of comforting silence.

"Yeah, that'd be a dick move."

"Alrighty then."

Shane's lips twitched, and he only had to wait for half a second until—

"But I told you so."

"Shut up." 


	6. Face-off

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: For your consideration: Ryan and Shane arguing about if ghosts are real. One of em gets so fed up he kisses the other one to shut him up. The kisser is satisfied at the dazed and dreamy look on the kissee's face and proudly declares they have won the argument.

"I swear on my life that I heard something respond to us, dude," Ryan exclaimed as they let themselves into their shared room at the hotel they were investigating.

"I'm not saying you didn't. I'm saying it wasn't a ghost. We're in a hotel, Ryan, there's a ton of people around. Living, kicking, breathing people," Shane sighed, dumping his bags on the plush bed. He groaned as he collapsed onto the luxurious duvet. "Ah, man. You sure do know how to pick 'em. We should stay in historical luxury hotels more often."

Ryan rolled his eyes to the ceiling and bit back his argument about spirits as he stepped over to his own bed. "Lindsi wasn't too happy about having to pay for our rooms here," he said, smirking. "But after a bit of negotiating I managed to convince her to get one for at least you and me."

"You're an angel," Shane muttered, running his fingers through his hair.

Ryan's cheeks warmed and he hurriedly turned in away in favour of digging through his bag for their EVP recorder. Wordlessly, he scrolled through their clips, and by the time he found the correct one, Shane was looking at him curiously.

"What are you doing?"

"Proving you wrong." Ryan flashed him a grin and hit 'play'.

The device crackled for a second before Ryan's voice came through. _"Shut up, Shane."_

_"But aren't we meant to be having a conversation with the ghosts? Don't ignore them, Ryan. They're invisible enough as it is."_

_"You're the worst."_

_"Yeah it keeps me awake at night."_

_"Fuck you."_

There's static for a moment, and then Ryan's voice continued. _"Is there anyone here with us?"_

_"There's a fancy bar downstairs, we could all go and get a drink."_

_"You're—"_

_"What do you think, ghosts? I bet you don't get invited to do that very often. No one ever summons you just to say 'hey' do they?"_

_"They just wanna hang out, I bet."_

_"Yeah, they wanna play some Yahtzee!"_

Over Ryan's laugh, there's a haunting whisper. _"We'll go with you."_

The rest of the recording is Ryan freaking out, insisting he heard someone _right next to his ear, Shane, are you kidding me?_

Ryan switched the device off and gulped, a shudder running down his spine. He glanced at Shane, but the taller man shrugged as he sat up on the bed. "It's not very clear."

Ryan spluttered and sprung to his feet, throwing the recorder aside. "Are you fucking serious right now? It is right there! Clear as day! If I show this to anyone else without context—"

"They'll hear someone breathing or something, yeah, yeah," Shane interrupted, slowly standing as well. "Like I said, it's not a controlled environment. Even if it sounds like something speaking, it could be any of the other hundreds of guests in the hotel."

"We were in the basement."

"And there were vents. Sound travels."

"How could an intellectual response to our conversation travel from elsewhere in the hotel?"

"It's a coincidence." A small smile tugged at Shane's lips.

"A coincidence?!"

"One's an incident, two's a coincidence, and three is a pattern. Actually, we didn't even make it to two, so it's not even a coincidence."

"Shane, there is a voice there. A whisper. An actual disembodied voice responding to us, which is evidence! You can't deny it."

"Yes I can," Shane laughed.

Ryan's cheeks were red, jaw clenched, but Shane just looked amused. "Ghosts aren't real," he continued, finally turning away, but he didn't get very far before Ryan latched onto the sleeve of his sweater and yanked him back around. "Ghosts arereal, we have evidence now, you can't just—Mmf!"

In one quick move, Shane cupped Ryan's face in his large hands and tilted his face up at the same moment he stepped forward, swooping down to kiss him firmly. And then his mind caught up with his actions. Panic clawed at his throat. What if this wasn't okay? What if he had read it all wrong? The lingering stares, the flirting? What if—

His mind abruptly shut down when Ryan slid their lips together and pressed up on his toes into the kiss. He felt Ryan's hands desperately scramble up his sides until they fell still on his waist, curled around his slim ribs and gripping the fabric of his sweater for balance. Another smile pulled at his mouth and he kissed him harder, fingers curling around the back of Ryan's neck and into his hair as he tugged him closer.

Ryan released a small groan and Shane practically melted at the sound. He kissed the shorter man like he needed him to live, pushing closer, closer, closer, until Ryan bumped into the nearest wall.

They were so close that Shane felt Ryan's chest lift with his gasp and he seized the opportunity to lick into his mouth, having to physically stop himself from whining at the taste.

Only when his lungs were begging for air did he slow, drawing back and sucking on Ryan's lower lip as he caught his breath. After a moment he pulled away completely, desperate to see Ryan's face, and the sight nearly made it worth it to put a halt to their kissing.

Ryan's cheeks were still red, his lips even more so, his glistening mouth parted as he sucked in great lungfuls of air. When he finally dragged his eyes open, Shane was treated to wide pupils ringed with chestnut, and he finally let loose the smirk that had been itching to take over his face. He stayed there for a moment, the two men gazing at each other as they panted into each other's mouths.

"So... Does this mean I win?" Shane whispered, still grinning, when the shorter man didn't continue his argument from before.

Ryan tilted his head, confused, before realization seemed to dawn. His eyes flickered with hurt, but Shane knew where his trail of thought was going. He kissed him again, soft and quick. "That's not why," he insisted breathlessly with earnest, and Ryan relaxed.

"You win this round," Ryan finally said, smiling a little.

"I win every round."

"Fuck you."

"Please and thank you."


	7. Shane Gets Hurt

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: Shane gets injured (up to you how badly) and Ryan FREAKS OUT, so Shane tries to comfort him even though he's the injured one and really, Ryan, it should be the other way around

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> anyway as i'm moving these over from wattpad i'm just now realising how many of my stories end in ryan saying "fuck you" like god what a mood

"Hey Ryan, what time is it?"

"Uh, it's—"

"It's ghost-hunting o'clock!"

Ryan let out a wheezing laugh, eyes crinkling. "Dude—"

"Time to hunt some ghosts. Better watch out, ghouls! Watch your backs!"

"Why do you always do this," Ryan sighed, shaking his head and lifting his flashlight. The beam sliced through the darkness of the nursery and he shuddered as he saw a glimpse of a China doll. "Well, this place can go fuck itself."

Shane grinned and angled the camera through the doorway. "This looks like the perfect place for a solo session."

"Um. No it's not. It's the opposite."

"But it's nice! It's full of dolls, and there's lots of pink. It's not scary at all," Shane laughed.

"Goddamnit. You're an asshole. For the record – a lot of people would find this nursery scary. It isn't just me."

"It's just you."

"Shut up, Shane. Just... stay here, alright?" Ryan sucked in a deep breath and edged into the dark nursery, steadfastly keeping his gaze away from the frankly terrifying blank stares of the dolls lining the shelves. "I literally—" The slam of the door echoed around the room and Ryan sighed. "Hate you."

Snickering, Shane lifted the camera and immediately began to wander down the hallway of the house they were investigating. What had Ryan said? Something about poltergeists. He remembered Ryan getting pissed when Shane suggested leaving a camera trained on the TV set in the living room all night. To him, that had seemed like the best way to—

"Shane!"

The sheer desperation in Ryan's voice shook Shane to his core. Heart constricting, he pivoted and propelled himself on long legs back down the hall. He'd only gotten a few steps when something caught his foot and the floor rushed up to meet him, camera flying from his hands. Agony lanced through his ankle, followed a second later by a blinding pain in his face.

"Oh, shit, you okay, man?" he heard the cameraman ask, and Shane groaned, breathing through the pain as he lifted his head to look down toward his feet. Other than a small fold in the rug, there was nothing there, which confused the fuck out of him because he was nearly certain he felt something trip him up.

Ryan's familiar voice cut through the haze of pain and he shakily pushed himself up, staring in confusion at the crimson stain beneath him. Oh, wait, it was blood. "Well that's unfortunate."

"Shit, you're bleeding," the shorter man said hurriedly when he kneeled in front of Shane, cupping his face in his hands. He hurriedly pressed his sleeve to Shane's nose to try and stop the flow of blood. "What happened?!"

"I... I don't know," Shane murmured, wincing as he shifted to his knees as his ankle throbbed in time with his racing heart. "Christ."

"What? Are you okay? What hurts?" Ryan asked frantically, chestnut eyes wide.

"Yeah, Ryan, I'm fine," he laughed, though he sounded slightly strained. "Seriously, I'm okay." He gently pushed Ryan's sleeve away from his face and switched it for his own instead. His entire head was pulsing and he shut his eyes as the cameraman went to switch on the lights.

"No you're not! Look at your face!"

"Excuse me, I am ruggedly handsome now."

Ryan huffed. "Your face is so fucked up, man," he laughed, going to brush his fingertips over Shane's swollen ankle. "And your ankle has gone to hell."

"Gnarly."

"It looks like a grapefruit."

"Yum."

"Shane—"

"Ryan, you're freaking out over nothing. I told you I'm fine."

"We should get you to a hospital, I'm not even kidding, forget the investigation, just forget it all, you're hurt—"

"I'm fine. Can you be rational for one second of your life?"

"You're a dick and I'm taking you to the hospital."

"Ryan." Shane raised his hand and gripped his friend's shoulder. "My nose stopped bleeding and I'm pretty sure my ankle is just twisted. We can wrap it and I'll be fine. Promise. It'll be okay." He smirked fondly. The irony of him comforting Ryan instead of the other way around wasn't lost on him, but this was always the way it went, wasn't it?

Sighing, Ryan gazed at him for a moment, then used his clean sweater sleeve to gently wipe smears of blood from Shane's lips and chin. Shane swallowed thickly, eyes locked on the man in front him. When he was mostly clean again, Ryan rested their foreheads together. "You're an idiot."


	8. Hand-holding

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> maybe a prompt where ryan gets scared of something while they're in a paranormal place (somewhere like the waverly sanatorium?) (and ryan is super jumpy, after all) and he instinctively grabs shane's hand? i think that would be pretty cute, and ryan seems like the type to do so! thanks

"Great. I'm really glad we came here. Fuck Past Me, by the way, because Past Me should have never agreed to come here."

"What are you talking about? This is the best place yet," Shane laughed, swinging his flashlight down the row of cells in front of them. The light barely cut through the inky blackness.

Ryan had to force his gaze away to keep from psyching himself out too much. "We're in the darkest timeline," he groaned.

Shane huffed out a laugh, shaking his head. "Always the dramatics."

"Fuck you," Ryan growled. The Eastern State Penitentiary had the aesthetic of Waverly Hills Hospital, but the overall aura of dread like the Sallie House. "This is fun. This is a fun time," he muttered sarcastically.

Shane faced the length of the cell block and used the toe of his boot to flick a loose piece of stone into the shadows. Ryan froze. He could barely hear it skid across the concrete over the thud of his own heartbeat, and his throat clicked as he swallowed. Finally, the rock stopped, silence washing over them. For a long moment, Ryan stood, staring down the hall, and he had to physically un-clench his jaw when the air around them remained silent.

"Well–" Shane started, but was cut off by something echoing out from the dense shadows, like rock scraping against rock.

Ryan yelped involuntarily. "What the fuck, dude, what the fuck?" he hissed, glancing behind them to make sure their cameraman was still there and wasn't fucking with them. With a nervous gulp he faced forward again, fighting every single instinct deep inside him screaming at him to run.

"Ryan?"

"Fucking shit, that was–"

"Ryan."

"What, Shane?" he whispered, finally tearing his eyes away to glare at the taller man. Shane was smirking, eyes glinting in the low light. Ryan dropped his gaze between them where Shane was holding up their clasped hands. Oh, shit. His cheeks flushed with warmth and he flicked his eyes back up toward Shane. "Um..."

"No need to explain, Ryan. I understand I'm the macho one between us. It's no surprise you look to me for protection," Shane said in a dramatically lofty voice, but he kept himself from meeting his friend's gaze and his own pale skin seemed rosier than normal.

"Macho– Protection– Now listen here," Ryan huffed, eyes slanting into a glare. "You are a string bean–"

"Muscles don't win against ghosts, Ryan."

"While I work out every day–"

"Trust me, I've noticed."

"And I know more about the paranormal and how to protect myself against them, so if anyone is going to do the protecting, it's me."

Ryan huffed, the warm air brushing his hand, and his eyes widened as he drew back a little. At some point in their bickering, they'd moved undeniably closer to one another. Their hands, still laced together, were essentially the only space between their faces as Ryan glared over the tops of their fingers. Shane's eyes danced with amusement, and Ryan didn't know if his pupils were larger due to the low light or their proximity. The two men sucked in a breath simultaneously, neither wanting to be the first to move in. It didn't even occur to Ryan that maybe he should move  _away_.

"Uh... Guys?"

Another yelp slipped past Ryan's lips and he jerked away. Shane's fingers clung to his own for just a second too long, tugging for a moment as if he was reluctant to let go, before separating completely.

"Not to ruin the sexual tension, but I definitely saw a figure behind you during your weird stare-down," the cameraman continued, eyes wide.

"What? Let me see!" Ryan raced over to him, the moment forgotten, too busy rewinding the footage to notice the way Shane's eyes tracked his every movement. 

For the rest of the night, if Ryan got frightened and Shane reached out to brush his fingers over the back of his hand, well, neither of them mentioned it.


End file.
